


Daughters

by CJ_fics



Series: The Team within the Team [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJ_fics/pseuds/CJ_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the question of Sara's resurrection, Quentin objects. John Diggle surprises himself. Oliver and Felicity acknowledge what they both know about their future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daughters

“Is there no end to how many times you will desecrate my daughter’s body, you sick son of a bitch?” Quentin Lance screamed from behind Sara’s grave stone upon seeing Oliver and John Diggle with shovels in his hands, just having finished up covering up Sara’s grave.

“Dete– Captain Lance,” Felicity moved forward from where she stood at the foot of the grave to put a stopping hand against the angry father who had rushed to where Oliver and John were standing, “It’s not–”

“Shut it, Missy,” Quentin growled, shoving Felicity to the side.

“Hey!” Oliver cried, dropping the shovel to step closer to Felicity, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Oliver,” Felicity murmured, placing a calming hand on his chest.

“Dad,” Laurel finally spoke up, “We have to do this. We have to try. There’s a way to bring Sara back. We have to try.”

“And who put that idea in your head?” Quentin snarled, pointing a finger at Oliver, “I bet it’s him, right? He was the one who put you up to this. Like with everything else – you’re such an idiot when it comes to this pathetic loser who thinks he has a say in what goes on in my family. When all he does is ruin everything! He –”

“Enough!” Felicity exclaimed in a loud voice, seeing Oliver clench his jaws and look away, doing nothing to defend himself against Quentin’s misplaced anger. She stepped closer to the the Captain, going toe-to-toe with him, “This isn’t Oliver’s idea. He–”

“Of course, you would come to his defense! You’re as stupid about him as my daughters are!” Quentin said sarcastically, “He put you up to breaking the law. He put you up to helping him lie about Sara’s death. He’s led you astray–”

“We lied about Sara’s death because of Laurel,” Felicity snarled back, “And as for me breaking the law? I made that decision for myself!”

“Bullshit!” Quentin shouted, spittle flying as he put his face closer to Felicity’s.

Oliver attempted to put a hand on Felicity’s shoulder to get her away from a livid Quentin Lance, but she brushed his hand aside, “No, what’s bullshit is you blaming Oliver for everything! Then using him when you need him. Then gunning after him for whatever imagined slight you think he has done to you! Oliver respected Laurel’s decision to not tell you about Sara’s death, even though he disagreed with it. This time, it’s not Oliver’s idea to use the Lazarus Pit to bring Sara back. It’s–”

“It’s mine,” Laurel said with a stubborn lift to her chin.

“And mine,” Nyssa Al Ghul added from where she stood over Sara’s wrapped body. Around her were members of the League of Assassin who were on hand to help transport Sara’s remains to Nanda Parbat.

“And you’re going along with this?” Quentin angrily turned his attention back to Oliver, who had yet to say anything.

Felicity scoffed, “What is it, Captain? Is Oliver to blame for this? Or is he just someone who’s going along with this idea? You can’t have both.”

That silenced Quentin Lance.

Felicity addressed Laurel and Nyssa, “We’ll see you at the hangar in an hour. I trust you will get Sara there.”

With that, she pulled a silent Oliver Queen to follow her out of Sara’s graveyard with John Diggle following in their wake.

——————-

“Thank you,” Oliver murmured once the van left the cemetery.

“For what?” Felicity frowned, reaching a hand out to turn Oliver’s face towards hers.

“For coming to my defense,” Oliver smiled sadly, “You always do that.”

“Oliver …” Felicity sighed, “You know when you’re being boneheaded, I’ll be the first to call you out on it. But Captain Lance blaming you for everything is not right. Why won’t you defend yourself against him?”

“Because I’ve done his family so much wrong,” Oliver exhaled. Before Felicity could argue, he insisted, “I have, Felicity. I played his daughters against each other. I seduced one when I was in a relationship with the other. My actions have caused Sara to be on that boat – and to die. The first time. I lied to him about Sara making it to Lian Yu and how she died that time. If I were him, I’d hate me, too. If it were my daughters – _our_ daughters …”

“Oh, Oliver,” Felicity nuzzled his jaw with her nose, “I know that what you did back then – it was boneheaded. I won’t argue with that. And yes, I know that you and the Captain will never be besties because of that. But Sara was as culpable in the damage that was done to the Lance family. She also chose to be with you, even though you were with Laurel. She chose again to be with you when she got back. I’m not saying you’re blameless in that matter. Because you are culpable. But you’re not the only one to blame.”

“When I think about – when I imagine – what it would be like if it was my daughter – _our_ daughter – I can get where Lance is coming from,” Oliver responded, “When I think about what it would feel like to have someone lie to me about my – _our_ – daughter dying, I know why Lance hates me.”

“ _We_ all lied to the Captain out of respect for Laurel,” Felicity argued, “Don’t forget that. It wasn’t your idea. I know you wanted to tell the Captain about what had happened to Sara.”

“Maybe I should have tried harder to convince Laurel to tell the truth,” Oliver insisted, hell bent on taking the blame.

Felicity rolled her eyes, “At that point, Oliver, you were busy trying to stop Laurel from harming herself and other people. Ease up on yourself, please.”

Oliver sighed but doesn’t respond. He buried his face on Felicity neck instead.

From behind the wheel through the rear view mirror, John looked at the couple seated together in the back, shaking his head. He had heard their whispered conversation.

He surprised himself with two things: One that Oliver and Felicity’s relationship seemed to have gotten to the point where they could talk about their future children so casually – he hadn’t realised that their relationship had gotten to that level. Or more specifically, that they were aware that their relationship had gotten to that point – he always knew that they were it for each other, he didn’t know that they knew that. And secondly, that for the first time in a long time, he found himself sympathesising with Oliver, thinking that Quentin Lance was unfair for casting all the blame on the younger man. He didn’t think he would ever find himself standing in Oliver’s corner ever again.

————

No one was surprised to find Quentin Lance standing below the Palmer Tech private plane when they reached the tarmac.

“Dad,” Laurel said with a warning tone.

“If you think that you will resurrect my daughter without me, you’re mistaken,” Quentin responded stubbornly.

“Of course,” Nyssa nodded, “Sara is on the plane and ready to for travel. The rest of the League has made their way to Nanda Parbat to prepare the Lazarus Pit and for the ceremony. Time is of haste.”

Nyssa boarded the plane without further explanation with Laurel following behind her.

Quentin ascended the plane after Laurel. Felicity, John and Oliver getting on the plane after him.

“Who’s flying this thing?” Quentin asked as soon as everyone was in the main cabin and John had closed the doors.

“I am,” Oliver responded, moving towards the cockpit with his hand wrapped around Felicity’s.

Quentin looked at the other people in the plane in askance, “Can he do that?”

“He can,” John and Nyssa said in unison before heading for their stations – Nyssa sitting next to the coffin where Sara’s remains lay, and John to the seat nearest to the cockpit.

The two living Lances made their way to their seats in the middle of the plane.

“This is wrong,” Quentin mumbled, shaking his head.

“Sara’s has a lot more living to do,” Laurel replied stubbornly, facing the window as the plane took off.

With a grunt, Quentin left his seat beside his daughter and sat next to John.

“Are you in agreement with this?” he asked the stoic man.

“Not my choice to make,” John replied quietly.

“Then whose is it?” Quentin insisted, “Queen’s? Hasn’t he done enough? He–”

“Not Oliver’s choice either,” John glared at the older man, “Stop casting all the blame at his feet.”

“Why shouldn’t I? He was the one who started all of this!” Quentin growls, “If he wasn’t a lying, cheating bastard, none of this would have happened.”

“And do you think he doesn’t know that?” John argued, “Father to father, I get where you’re coming from. All this hatred for the man whose actions led to all of this. To what happened to your daughters. I get it. And you know what? He gets it, too.”

“Wha–”

“And he has paid for it in spades,” John continued, “You have no idea what he has been through. How much he has lost. Has suffered after getting on the Gambit.”

“That’s supposed to excuse him for the consequences of his actions?” Quentin asked gruffly.

“Which actions? The one where he and Sara willingly got into an affair behind Laurel’s back? Or the one where he rescued Sara from the hands of sick bastard? Or the one where he sacrificed another woman – a woman that he cared for – in order to save Sara’s life? Or the one where he lied to Slade Wilson to protect himself and Sara?”

Quentin loudly exhaled in response, not willing to give an inch.

“I know why it’s easier to lay everything at Oliver’s feet, and to blame him for everything. He certainly allows it.” John continued, “But you have no idea, you haven’t bothered to ask, about the circumstances surrounding everything you’re blaming him for.”

“It wasn’t his choice for Sara to join the League. He didn’t put the arrows that killed her. It wasn’t him who wanted to lie to you about her death and deprive you of the right the bury your daughter. It wasn’t him who is now choosing to bring her back from the dead.”

“Then whose choice was it?” Quentin mumbled.

“The people who claim to love Sara the most,” John replied.

“Laurel and that Nyssa woman,” Quentin confirmed.

“All we could do was try to sway them, and we did,” John answered, “He more than anyone. And when they couldn’t be swayed, then we support them. Make sure it’s done right. Make sure that we give this the best chance it has to work – with the least negative effect possible.”

“How?”

“Oliver has contacted someone who’s some kind of expert in the Lazarus Pit. A John Constantine,” John said, “He will be waiting for us in Nanda Parbat.”

Quentin nodded in acquiescence.

“I will never forgive him for being the root of all this,” Quentin said after a few minutes of silence, “No matter how many excuses you and Ms. Smoak give for him.”

“Understandable,” John nodded, “Like I said, he gets that, too.”

“How?”

“Because for the first time in his miserable life, Oliver Queen has allowed himself the luxury of imagining what it would be like as a father,” John replied.

“If there was justice in the world, he would have daughters and he would have to protect them from the Oliver Queens of the world,” Quentin scoffed.

——–

“Daddy?” Sara’s small voice called out from the stone dais where her body was lifted onto after she got out of the Lazarus Pit.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Quentin rushed to where Sara lay. He cried, murmuring, “I’m here, baby. My beautiful girl. I’m here. Daddy’s here. You’re safe.”

“What’s happening? Where am I? Daddy?” Sara gasped, looking around, not recognising the people around her. Behind her father, stood two women, both tall. One with light brown hair and the taller one with black mane. They looked at her with concern – and was that love?

Behind them stood three other people – a tall black male, and another tall man, with a tiny blonde woman in between them. The woman was clutching the other man’s hands tightly while she chewed on the thumbnail of the other hand. All three of them looked like they were holding their breath.

“You remember your father, that’s good,” another tall man, with light blond hair, said from the foot of where she lay.

“Will she remember the rest?” the black-haired woman asked imperiously.

“Eventually,” the man responded, “I don’t know how long it will take but she will. Eventually. We’ve managed to get most of her soul back.”

“What? Soul?” Sara asked in confusion.

“Sara Lance,” the man turned his attention to her, “You are Sara Lance. This is your family. That’s all you need to know for now. Rest.”

Before anyone could say anything more, the man motioned a complex combination of hand signals towards Sara. Her eyes close.

“So, what now?” Laurel asked tearfully.

“We wait,” Constantine replied casually, “She’s been dead for more than a year, there is a chance that while she will remember what has happened to her, and all of you people, that remembrance might not come with the requisite emotions and feelings that you all expect. Dying – and coming back to life – always leaves a person altered completely.”

“What does that mean?” Quentin frowned, “We don’t get Sara back after all?”

“She’s alive, isn’t she,” Constantine replies, “You’ve got her back. She just won’t be the same. How much, I cannot predict.”

He turned his attention to Oliver, “I thought I asked you to explain this to them.”

“The matter has been discussed,” Oliver confirmed, “And the decision was made despite that knowledge.”

“If there was any chance that we could get a fraction of my beloved back, then I will take it,” Nyssa responded strongly.

“I agree,” Laurel agreed.

Quentin exhaled. _At least his daughter was alive again._

—————

“We did the right thing, right?” Felicity breathed as Oliver shut the door on their chambers for the night. Out of respect for his former status as Al Sahim, he was given his old room back.

Felicity blushed as she recalled what had happened the last time they were in this room together.

“If it were our child, would we not take the same risk?” Oliver countered, walking towards the bed and taking a seat on the edge of it.

“You know, this is the third time – I think – that you’ve referred to our imaginary child. Don’t think I’ve not noticed that,” Felicity responded lightly, stepping in between his thighs to stroke his shoulders, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Oliver softly smiled at her, wrapping his hands around her hips, “Nothing that you don’t already know.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, running her fingers through the back of his head.

“That someday soon, when we’re both ready, you and I, we’re going to have a little you.”

Instead of any verbal response, Felicity leaned down to kiss Oliver in agreement.

/end

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: http://outoftheclosetshipper.tumblr.com/post/128096518003/daughters


End file.
